Theories
by Siriusly in Lurve
Summary: James Potter has a theory about why Lily won't go out with him. He happens to mention it while on patrol with her, and Lily does not react well. What will happen when James' theory comes into practice soon after?


**Disclaimer: You know what I'm going to say. 'Tis not my series that this story is based on. 'Tis JKR's.**

**Theories**

"You know, Evans, I have a theory." Potter says, smiling nonchalantly at me. I don't answer. We're patrolling, because Dumbledore somehow thought him being Head Boy was a good idea, and the less I talk to him, the better. He doesn't take the hint, and continues. "It's about why you won't go out with me."

I want to smack him. I really do. But I'll try and contain myself, if only for the sake of my dignity and detention record. I grit my teeth and glare at him, willing myself not to become violent. "You already know why I won't go out with you, Potter. You're an arrogant, bullying toerag." I say, attempting to burn a hole through his skull with my retinas. It's happened before. I accidentally set someone on fire when I was nine. But sadly, my magic is more controlled now. If it weren't, I could make it look like an accident.

"That's not my theory." he says pleasantly, in a musical sort of tone. Does he think that's attractive? Because really, he sounds like a little girl.

I roll my eyes at him. "Oh really? Enlighten me on what your _brilliant mind_ has come up with." I say, sarcasm painting my every syllable. He's either extremely oblivious or positively mental, because he acts as if I've complimented him, a bright smile not leaving his face. I'm leaning towards the latter.

"You see, I always say, if you go out with me I'll leave you alone. And you always say no. Because... you don't want me to leave you alone." Here is where he beams pleasantly at me. He looks even more pleased than in sixth year, when he gave me a Valentine's card and I accepted it without protest. In my defense, I would've gave it back, but I was holding books. They would have dropped on my foot. It's not like I fancied him or anything. Because I didn't.

I snort inelegantly. "That's ridiculous. I say no because I dislike you immensely!" I proclaim loudly. Honestly, who does Potter think he is? I swear, all the Quidditch injuries have finally penetrated through his incredibly thick skull. He's officially gone mad!

"If you dislike me so much, why did you write about me in your diary?" asks Potter innocently, not looking me in the eyes. My eyes bulge out at this. Yes, I have mentioned him in my diary before, but it was only to talk about what annoying prat he is. When will he get it? I. Like. Potter. Wait a minute! I meant: I _don't_ like Potter! Stupid, annoying, incoherent brain.

I explode angrily at his question. "...You read my _diary_? I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU!" I scream. I'm not sure whether I'll be able to refrain from violence now. That boy has gone too far! A diary is sacred, it's not to be read by the filthy eyes of creepy teenage stalkers! It's like he... raped my soul! Soul-raping, diary reading Potter! UGH.

Potter grins like a madman. "Nope. I didn't. But now I know for sure you write about me." he says, looking victorious. That was so unfair! I mean, I'm glad that my soul remains a virgin, but you can't just pretend to have read someone's diary to get information out of them! Useless git.

"That was a dirty trick!" I narrow my eyes, crossing my arms. Is it really possible for one person to cause so much anger in another? (If Potter qualifies as person, that is. Myself, I think of him more as a troll. But then that's an insult to trolls, isn't it?)

He looks like he wants to laugh, the nerve of him. "...There are so many ways I could respond to that sentence." That dirty-minded git. I don't even want to know what goes on in his head. Though it's probably mostly empty space, since he doesn't seem to use it for anything other than pranks and womanizing and Quidditch.

"You are sick, Potter." I spit out. Aren't we supposed to be patrolling? No one can patrol with their partner bugging them every step of the way. Why, oh, why did Dumbledore choose _this_ year to go nutters? My friend, Alice, was Head Girl last year, and she had a perfectly normal partner. Sociable, even. But then as soon as it's my turn to take the job, a Marauder gets chosen as Head Boy. Life is so crap, sometimes.

"Thank you, darling." Potter says, unaffected by my words. See what I meant earlier about the thick skull? Nothing gets through to him.

I mime gagging. "Ugh! Just LEAVE ME ALONE!" I yell, half-pleading now. He has made my life constant arguments and embarrassments for the past seven years now. Is it too much to ask for a little break? Doesn't he ever get tired of the rejection, the hexes, the fights? I really do. Life would be so much easier if he just gave up on, you know, breathing.

He smirks. "Only if you go out with me, Evans." I. Hate. Those. Words. Those words are the ones that cost me a best friend, that have haunted me for all my time at Hogwarts. So those words are the ones that ignite a fiery, unstoppable anger in me. I yell my heart out, the ends of my hairs lighting up and my voice sounding ten times as loud as it ever has.

"HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU, I DON'T LIKE YOU. I WOULD TAKE PLEASURE IN THROWING YOU OFF A CLIFF. NOW LET ME BE OR I WILL-" My sentence never gets finished as this is when his lips come crashing down onto mine. Oh. My. Bloody. Hell. He's KISSING me? REALLY?

My mind wants me to pull away, but my lips don't seem to be listening. (Lips, why are you kissing Potter? He's bad, remember?) So they continue to press against his, responding just as fiercely as he. I'm going to regret this. Damn hormones. And blokes with soft lips. And teenage girls with no willpower. Finally, my mind seems to gain control of my body and I stop the kiss, gasping for air. "Did you just kiss me, Potter?" I ask, breathing heavily, incredibly shocked.

"I believe so, Lily-Flower. And I think you kissed me back." he adds smugly, but his voice is just as breathless as mine.

I blush, because the world seems to hate me. "I did _not_." I lie vehemently. "As if I would ever kiss _you_!" I say 'you' as if it's the filthiest word on the planet. When concerning Potter, it is. Even if he is excellent at snogging. Wait, how did that thought get in here? Evil hormones again. I swear, it's like they're there for onlookers' sick amusement.

"Then why are you turning red?" Potter asks slyly.

I scowl and try to think. "Because... because it's hot in here!" I say, satisfied I could come up with a plausible answer. Beat that, Mr. Marauder.

He winks. "No, darling, that's just me." There he is again, using my own words against me. Today is so not my day. And Potter is not hot. Not even a little. Alright, maybe a little. But if that thought leaves this brain it's brain-cell-killing alcohol for you! That's right, I went there. But as long as my mind is thinking of Potter's slight attractiveness, he has nice hair today. Sort of makes you want to run your hand through it and... Merlin's trousers, what is wrong with me today?

"Like what you see, do you?" says Potter, catching on to my staring. Just shut up, you twat. I'll have you know that I'm officially insane today, so this behaviour is justified. He runs a hand through his hair, his trademark move. Idiot.

I'm just sick of it all at this point. But I attempt once more to get through to him, because I really need this. Too much emotional stress fighting him off again and again. "Potter, I don't just want you to leave me be, I _need_ you to. You claim to like me so much, yet you aren't willing to do this for me. I've had enough, alright? I'm just bloody tired at this point and I can't handle having you chasing me for the rest of the year. You got the position of Head Boy, but that doesn't make you mature. Mature would be being able to realize when something is over, and there's no chance of anything happening. If you can accept that this is our situation, you'll have my respect. If not, I might have to consider switching patrols with Mary MacDonald."

He looks shocked, and somewhat hurt. Then his face clears up, and for once, he seems serious. (No Sirius-serious jokes, please. I've heard way too many over the past seven years.) Potter nods, and what he does next completely takes me off guard. "I'm sorry, Evans." he says. I think that's the first apology I've ever gotten from him. Historic moment, huh? Potter continues. "I didn't realize that my actions... concerned you this much. I assure you, it was not my intention to make you feel this way. If this is what you really want, what will earn your respect, I won't ask you out anymore."

Wow. That was easy. I didn't realize that if I just talked to him about how he acts, as well as how it makes me feel, he'd change his mind so quickly. Should have done this years ago. "Thank you Potter," I say, and I really mean it. That's the first sincere thanks I've ever given him. (I've said stuff like, "Thank you for ruining my day!" and "Gee, thanks, I really needed my hair turned bright purple!")

Surprisingly, he follows through on his promise. We go through the rest of the patrol without a single annoyance. He doesn't ask me out or bother me in any way the whole way through. I'm shocked. I'll admit it, Potter's fun to talk to when he's not asking me out. He told me about a few of the sillier pranks he and Black have done over the years, and the many creative detentions they received for them. I could get used to this.

When we're back at the Gryffindor Common Room, I can't believe how well it went. Am I _disappointed_ that the patrol's over? Do I want to keep talking to Potter? I'm definitely off my rocker today. But also happy, that I lost an enemy and gained a possible friend. That is, if Potter can keep this up. We'll see.

* * *

It's been three months since that day. James (Yes, we've finally progressed to calling each other by our first names, shocking, isn't it?) and I are on patrol again. We've actually become quite close mates. It was a hell of a surprise for the other Marauders. They thought James had _imperiused_ me, or something of the like. But I digress. I think I'm running into a bit of a problem, though. Drum roll please...

I might fancy James Potter. Just, you know, a little. Or a lot.

Nearly had a panic-attack when I realized it. I was in Transfiguration class two days ago, James passed me a quill, and when his hand brushed against mine I felt tingles. Tingles! Over touching him, my mate. You see why this caused panic? James, sensing my distress, asked me what was wrong and put a hand on my shoulder. I almost fell out of my chair. Okay, I did fall out of my chair. He helped me up, and when his hand touched mine, my heart went racing a mile a minute.

I feel so stupid. First, I reject the poor bloke for years. Then, I tell him not to ask me out, so he stops it. (Not to mention easing up on the pranks and not hexing people in corridors.) Now, I'm pretty sure he doesn't fancy me; he doesn't look at me at all the same way he used to. So then _I_ start to fancy _him_! Why, Lily, why are you so idiotic? Bugger, bugger, bugger!

As if he can hear my inner thoughts (Merlin, that's a scary thought) James turns to me with a curious expression. "What's with you, Lily? You've been acting weird for the past two days. Has something happened to you?" If only you knew.

I try to feign ignorance. "I have no idea what you mean, James. I'm acting completely normal." That's a complete lie, I've gone even more mad than I was before. But no need to publicize that any more than my actions already do.

James raises a dark eyebrow. Damn it, I even think his eyebrows are adorable. Get out of my head you lovable idiot! "Uh, Lily, you screamed when I tried to pass you the toast this morning. That's not normal. If there's something going on, you can tell me. I won't judge you, Lils." he says, softly. "Are you sure you don't want to tell me?"

Don't be understanding. I don't need understanding. I need a jerk who acts superior and annoying so I can stop fancying you. I think I'm going to tell him. I shouldn't expect him to like me though. He has every reason to hate me. I have been completely mean and hurtful to him every time he asked me out, why should I deserve any different treatment? " I... I like... pandas!" I blurt out. Pandas? What the hell?

"Pandas?" James asks, confusion crossing his wonderful face.

"Er, yes. They're endangered, you know." I say solemnly.

We both look at each other, and then we can't take it. We both start to laugh. You can't deny it's funny. I mean, a girl admitting her feelings for... pandas, in front of her fellow Head. After the chuckling dies down, he looks at me again. "So, are you going to tell me what's bothering you?" he asks. I already tried! But my brain doesn't seem to be very connected with my mouth these days.

I come up with a plan, which is quite clever if I do say so myself. And I do. "You know, James, I have a theory," I start innocently, smiling. He looks intrigued, so I continue. "A girl only starts to like a lad when he stops liking her. It's the whole, 'Want-what-you-can't-have' idea. What are your opinions on the subject?" I ask, glancing at him.

He shrugs. "I dunno, I think it's kind of stupid. Why should the girl not understand that it's over, and the bloke will never like her again?" James asks, running a hand through his hair. He'll never like me again? Damn it, I really blew it this time. I'm upset, but I don't want to show it. I'm embarrassed enough as it is. I look directly at the wall, praying for a distraction. Think... iguanas. Well, at least it's something to think about.

"Right you are," I mutter, picturing an iguana. (Somehow the image doesn't make his words hurt less.)

James turns to me and grins. "I'm not as dense as you think I am, love. I like you, Lily, I always have. I stopped asking you out because you asked me to, and said it would earn your respect. If I had thought for a moment that you actually _wanted _me to... Well sod respect now, I suppose, because it appears that you like me as well," His grin increases to the point that it appears painful. He likes me! James likes me! No more freaking iguanas!

I squeal internally. Oh god, I just squealed over James Potter, if only on the inside. I am a very twisted person. One does not squeal over a male in any manner. It's undignified. Ah, hell, what do I care? Squeal away! "Will you go out with me?" I ask, grinning just as much as him. We probably look like fools, but I'm honestly too happy to care.

James actually appears to think about it. "One on condition. You have to admit I was right about my theory." he demands, smirking. Of course. The boy loves being right, and rubbing it in the faces of those who contested him. I should have seen this coming. But I suppose it's alright, I think I probably would have chosen something much more sadistic if I were him. I've trashed him pretty harshly before.

"Okay, you were right," I admit easily.

James shakes his head as an evil look enters his eyes. "Not to me. To the entire Great Hall tomorrow morning." Ah, there it is. Should have known he wouldn't let it be that easy. But fair enough, I made him ask me out for _years_ with refusal. I don't like the look on his face though. He enjoys this much more than should be allowed. It's infuriating, really. Though he turns my mind into a pile of mush most of the time, so I don't suppose there's anything I can do about, now is there?

I agree reluctantly, and we continue on our patrol, giant smiles plastered on both of our faces. I can't believe that I was the one to ask him out. It seems so pathetic, practically having to beg for his acceptance. What will we tell our children? James stops and slowly turns his head to stare. "Children?" he asks, his eyes wide. Oh crap. I said that out loud, didn't I?

"Iguana!" I burst out.

James puts a hand around my waist and continues to walk. "I'm going to stop asking you questions."

**R & R. **


End file.
